


questions (let's play a game)

by blueshirts



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 'let's play a game' trope, 'trapped in a cave because of a storm' trope, Bucky's a horny guy, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueshirts/pseuds/blueshirts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Steve are forced to take refuge from a thunderstorm in a cave. To pass the time, they decide to play a game of Questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	questions (let's play a game)

Lightning flashed outside the mouth of the cave, and rain beat relentlessly on the face of the mountain. Every once in a while, the sound of rainfall– so like the sound of hundreds of faroff feet marching with purpose- would be punctuated with a crack of thunder. Bucky sat in the back of the cave, his head tilted back and his eyes mere slits. He counted the seconds between lightning flash and thunder crash and watched Steve’s silhouette flash in and out of existence. Bucky was struck, even now, by how hulking Steve had gotten. 

He was taller than Bucky and his shoulders were broader. Steve turned away from the mouth of the cave, his profile briefly illuminated. Bucky wondered if they would have been friends if Steve had looked so outwardly ideal back in their youth. Bucky quashed the thought. Of course they would have.

Steve was frowning, Bucky noted. He slid down the cave wall and landed with a soft _thump_ beside Bucky.

“Looks like we won’t be finishing recon anytime soon.”

Bucky straightened his back, nodded, then asked, “Evac?”

Steve shook his head. There was no chance for a vehicle in this storm on such uneven terrain, and even less hope for a chopper.

“How long?”

“Could be over in a half hour, could take the night,” Steve looked at Bucky, his eyes glinting in the dark, “It’s weird how Tony can create algorithms to perfectly predict the outcome of a horserace but he can’t figure out a weather radar.”

Bucky cocked a brow. Although his hair was shorter, Steve still might have missed it, were it not for Bucky’s reply, “You couldn’t look it up yourself, Rogers? They have this amazing thing called Google…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get the hang of it eventually,” and maybe it was just Bucky’s imagination, but he thought he saw Steve’s eyes shine brighter.

They sat in silence for a long moment. Bucky tried to focus on the sensations surrounding him, rather than thoughts of the past which threatened to suffocate him. His flesh fingers uncurled. He lay the palm of his hand against the cool cave floor and swirled unparticular patterns in the beads of condensation. His metal arm, exposed in the tank top he was wearing, was pressed flush against Steve’s side. Steve was warm… warmer than a normal human ought to be, but just right for Steve. 

Bucky froze, his fingers ceasing their movement mid-air. He’d surprised himself just then, an errant desire to lean in closer to Steve cropping up within him. Bucky’s heartrate increased and he struggled to keep his breathing steady. He realized he wanted to discover what it might feel like to have  _this_ Steve embrace  _this_ Bucky, especially with the torrential storm bearing down upon them.

If Steve noticed Bucky’s body tense up, he didn’t say anything. Bucky scrambled, looking for something to say. He didn’t want thoughts like these in his head, either.

“Let’s play a game,” he said, his voice a whisper against the backdrop of thunder and rain.

“A game?” Steve sounded like he thought he’d misheard Bucky.

“Yeah,” Bucky looked at Steve and shrugged, “I’m bored.” 

Steve exhaled, one soft moment of laughter, “Alright. What kinda game?”

Bucky pondered, using the opportunity to remove his arm from the scorching heat of Steve’s side, pretending to stroke his chin (something he’d never actually do but desperate times call for desperate measures). 

“Questions?” he suggested.

Steve grinned, his teeth flashing in the dark, “Have we already started?”

Bucky frowned, “I don’t know. Have we?” he shifted to face Steve head on and was simultaneously thrilled and petrified when their faces ended up being mere inches from each other.

“That’s kinda cheap, isn’t it?”

“Fine,” Bucky knew he couldn’t pause, so he went with the first thing that came to mind, “Why’d you let me come with you on this mission?”

Steve hesitated, brow furrowed. 

Bucky smirked, “Strike one.” Steve ignored him. 

“Buck, when have I ever not wanted you by my side?” He asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Isn’t it different now, though?” Bucky tapped his fingers one by one against the cave floor. The heavy, rasping  _clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk_ filled the air.

Steve’s eyes darted downwards, unmistakably drawn to the source of the jarring noise. He looked back up and locked eyes with Bucky.

“Everything’s different now,” he said, his voice tinged with indignation at Bucky’s refusal to bend immediately, and marked with an undercurrent of something else. Something a bit gentler. Bucky swallowed thickly and fought to maintain eye contact.

“Strike two, Rogers. Guess we finally found something you can’t do.”

Steve frowned. He looked frustrated. Bucky felt he’d done wrong– he hadn’t meant to make Steve mad. He waited for Steve, trying for patience. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the scene. Alit in stark black and white, Steve looked like one of those sculptures in classic art museums– an old Greek god unearthed from marble and chiseled into the ideal human form. Bucky flushed. What was wrong with him?

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, quietly.

“Right now?” Bucky knew that wasn’t what Steve had meant, but it bought him some time.

Steve’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and Bucky tracked the movement. He’d thought about Steve’s lips before, and wondered..

“Is something on your mind?” Steve’s voice cut through Bucky’s swiftly drifting thoughts. He tilted his head in, expectant. 

His face was only inches from Bucky’s.

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky blurted out. He almost regretted it but, hell, it was worth a try.

Steve looked taken aback. He searched Bucky’s face for something– maybe a sign that Bucky was joking. His search must have proved satisfactory, because a beat later he closed the space between he and Bucky, smashing their mouths together. 

Steve wove his fingers through Bucky’s damp hair as he deepened the kiss. Still in shock and more than a little aghast at his own forwardness, Bucky didn’t even get the chance to reciprocate before Steve pulled back, blushing so furiously Bucky could see the rouge even in the dark of the cave. 

He was still leaning in, he still had handfuls of Bucky’s hair, and Bucky could feel Steve’s ragged breath tickling his cheeks.

Bucky smiled, “Does that mean your answer's a yes?”

Steve groaned– he never was one for patience when it came to Bucky– and he kissed Bucky again. Bucky kissed him back this time, relishing the pillowy feel of Steve’s lips on his, and wondering what it would take to be treated to this more often. Though this one was nearly as chaste, Bucky felt a hint of teeth, a soft nibble, and then the kiss was over.

Steve fell back, his eyes wide open– in fear or excitement, Bucky couldn’t say. It might have been a mixture of the two. 

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammered.

The smile on Bucky’s face broadened. He leaned forward until he and Steve’s foreheads knocked softly together.

“Third strike,” Bucky trailed his hands down Steve's back and delighted in the resulting shiver, “I win.”


End file.
